


Faith and Gravity

by faithandgravity



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Maybe more - Freeform, Past Drug Use, Teenlock, mentions of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithandgravity/pseuds/faithandgravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 15-year-old Sherlock Holmes and his family move to a new town. Sherlock meets John and all the other characters. People, relationships, stuff. Read it and find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So... ummm... yeah this is my first story, don't be too mean to me! Haha criticism is very welcome. I don't know what else to say. Sorry if updates come a bit slow, as I said, this is my first story and writing is harder than I thought it would be. Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are highly appreciated (:

Chapter One

Sherlock never quite fit in anywhere he went. It wasn’t a surprise that the other kids stared at him and whispered as he stood off to the side at his new bus stop. He supposed it was normal for kids to stare at someone new, but the staring would probably continue indefinitely. He wasn’t like most kids; he already knew it. Most of them hated him once they got to know him; or, more accurately, once they thought they got to know him.

He sighed and shifted his weight. It irritated him to have to wait for a stupid bus. Mycroft always gave him a ride to his previous school. He didn’t understand why the family had to move. More job opportunities, his parents said. Why would they need more when they were already never home to begin with? It didn’t matter anyway, by the next year, Sherlock would have his driver’s license and undoubtedly a shiny new car provided by his parents. Yes, he always had more than everything he needed. Everything except perhaps the most important, love and attention.

He was alright though. He turned out just fine. Or at least that’s what he told himself as he boarded the bus that finally pulled up beside the group of students. Now, for a place to sit. To his dismay, there were no completely open seats. Great. He slowly made his way towards the back, glancing at quite a few kids staring at him, and just as many distracted by other things like unfinished homework. Typical teenagers. He quickly considered his options, knowing he couldn’t stand there much longer. To the right was a pretty girl with brown hair sitting alone, looking at him with half a dreamy smile. Obviously she thought he was cute or something of the sort that girls think. Better not give her any ideas by taking the other half of her seat. To his left was a blonde boy, about his age he’d guess. The boy looked up at Sherlock, smiled, and motioned for him to sit down. A bit odd, Sherlock thought. He guessed it was just because the boy didn’t know Sherlock yet. Well, he needed a place to sit. He mentally shrugged and sat down.

“Hi,” said the boy.

“Good morning,” Sherlock said, trying to sound the way he felt; not in the mood for small talk.

“Woah, your voice is deep. What grade are you in?” asked the boy.

“The same number as there are protons in an atom of Neon.” Sherlock replied. Let the insults begin.

“Hey, I’m in tenth grade too!” The boy smiled. Sherlock gave him a look.

“How would you know that if that’s something students learn in tenth grade?” Sherlock asked.

“Ok, don’t laugh at me for being a nerd, but I want to be a doctor someday,” the boy smiled.

“Interesting.” Sherlock replied flatly.  

“How did you know it then?” The boy asked. Before Sherlock answered, the girl who was staring at him dreamily switched seats with whoever was sitting behind them and tapped on the boy’s shoulder.

“Morning, John. Who’s your friend?” She smiled shyly.

“Morning, Molly. This is.. I didn’t ask your name, how rude of me,” John said to Sherlock.

“Sherlock Holmes,” Sherlock replied. He didn’t like the amount of positive attention he was getting. However, he didn’t want to appear rude. He didn’t want to appear at all. This is not how people are supposed to act around him.

“Sherlock Holmes. Oh, what a pretty name!” Molly smiled, slightly less shy.

“Molly, guys don’t have pretty names. Handsome or manly, maybe, though I’m not sure if either fit ‘Sherlock Holmes. No offense Sherlock. I’m John, by the way,” John replied.

“Handsome then,” Molly shot John a look, “I’m Molly Hooper,”

“Thanks,. Nice to meet you,” Sherlock frowned. Friends. He’d made friends. He didn’t want friends. Why, no, how, did this even happen.

“What homeroom are you in, Sherlock?” Molly asked as the bus pulled into the school parking lot.

“Room 312, Mr. Mack.” Sherlock replied.

“Me too!” John smiled.

“I got stuck with Mrs. Smith this year,” Molly complained. John laughed. The bus pulled up to the school. Just another boring school, nothing special.

“Have fun with that,” John said as they got off the bus. Sherlock followed John simply because he didn't know where he was going. As they walked into the school and parted ways with Molly, Sherlock noticed that barely any kids were staring at him now. There was something weird about this school. Sherlock wasn’t immediately a complete outcast.

“Molly seems nice. Are you two…” Sherlock asked.

“No. Not at all. Go for it,” John smiled.

“I wasn’t asking for that reason. I’m not interested,” Sherlock replied.

“Alright. But she’s really sweet, if you ever change your mind. She’s in our grade too. We’ve been friends for a really long time,” John said.

“I thought so,” Sherlock replied.

“Why are you acting weird? Almost like the school is confusing you? Haven’t you ever been to school?” John asked.

“Usually people despise me. I suppose it’s because nobody knows me yet,” Sherlock replied.

“Nonsense, you’re a nice person. Nobody’s gonna hate you,” John stated.

“You see that girl over there?”

“Yeah?”

“She slept with that boy leaning against that locker. Came to school directly from his house.”

“What? How did you-”

“And that teacher over there, he grades students unfairly based on prejudices he’s had since a childhood incident.”

“Really?” John smiled up at Sherlock.

“Would I have any good reason to lie right now?” Sherlock half-smiled.

“How did you do that? You barely glanced at them, you don’t even know those people. Of course, I believe what you say because I know them, but you’ve never seen them before in your life, have you?” John said, amazed.

“No I have not.It’s the science of deduction,” Sherlock said, bored.

“Can you say anything about me? I have a boring life, but there has to be something,” John asked, still smiling.

“You live with your mom and dad, and older sister.” Sherlock said confidently, after examining John’s neatly ironed clothes (probably mother), dated watch (probably father’s hand-me-down), and a random college keychain hanging from his bookbag (probably sister, probably older).

“Incredible. Exactly right. I would ask how but I don’t want the magic ruined.

“That’s not the response I usually get.”

“What response do you usually get?”

“Piss off.” Sherlock replied. John laughed. They reached homeroom and sat by each other. Sherlock didn’t want friends. That’s what he told himself when he couldn’t find a friend in elementary school. When all the kids made fun of him in middle school, he didn’t want anybody either. Although he wouldn’t admit to wanting John or Molly as a friend, he’d allow it. Afterall, he didn’t want to seem rude.

John was in a few of his classes after that. Most of the teachers had assigned seating, so they were separated. Sherlock noted that John didn’t have many friends. For the most part, Sherlock kept his mouth shut and he was ignored. Besides the usual staring that every new kid gets.

Sherlock walked into eleventh period feeling pretty happy with how the day had gone, though he wouldn’t admit it, even to himself. He had grown too accustomed to being shunned, and once people got to know him, he probably would be again.

He glanced around his bio class. John wasn’t in this one. Molly was. Luckily, she didn’t see him before he could get to the back of the room. Yes, they were friends. No, he didn’t want the friendship. He could be polite when it was unavoidable, but here, it was totally avoidable. The teacher went over all the rules of the class, just like every other teacher that day. She then announced that everybody had to find a partner. That partner would probably be their partner for the rest of the year, as long as nothing major happened.

Sherlock looked around as kids found their friends and he discovered who was with who and who hated who. Not that he cared at all, it was just more information that could possibly be useful later. Everybody in the class fell into groups of two. Except Molly, who continued to sit alone. Sherlock was alone in the back as well, so he sighed and went up towards the front of the class to take the empty chair next to her. She jumped at the sound of the chair moving and quickly turned to him.

“Sherlock!” She practically squealed as a huge smile broke out across her face.

“I would ask to sit here but it seems I have no choice.” Sherlock said.

“I usually have to sit alone because we’ve never had an even number of kids in science before,” Molly said happily. Sherlock smiled politely, and class went on. He noted that Molly kept glancing at him and trying to hide that idiotic smile as the teacher spoke of her grading system. Soon enough, class was over and Sherlock and Molly walked out together,

“Do you take the bus home, too?” Molly asked.

“Obviously. What else would I do?” Sherlock replied.

“I don’t know. Sorry,” Molly said, frowning.

“It’s.. alright.” Sherlock said. He found John already on the bus and sat next to him. Molly disappointedly took the next empty seat, a ways back.

“Did you enjoy your first day here?” John asked, smiling.

“More or less. I’m not used to talking so much,” Sherlock replied.

“Talking so much! You barely said a few words all day!” John laughed.

“I had nobody to talk to at my old school. I only spoke when asked a question by a teacher.” Sherlock replied.

“Well, you have me now,” John smiled. Sherlock smiled back, although he wasn’t happy about it. He wouldn’t admit, even to himself, that he liked having a friend.

The rest of the bus ride was mostly small talk that Sherlock hated, yet didn’t mind as much now. He had shown the real him to John in school, and several times on the bus, and John was only amazed. Maybe the year wouldn’t be so terrible.

Sherlock let himself into his new yet still unreasonably large house. There were still boxes everywhere from the move. He didn’t bother calling out; he knew his parents and Mycroft were at work. Just as he reached the stairs, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

**How was your first day? MH**

Sherlock smiled and texted back.

**Great. I made two friends. SH**

Not three seconds later did he get a reply.

**Two? Really? MH**

 

**Yes, really. Molly and John. They’re really nice. I’ve deduced that Molly likes me. SH**

Sherlock almost liked being normal for once. This conversation seemed so trivial.

**Do they know? MH**

He stopped and frowned at his phone. He knew exactly what his brother was talking about.

**Yes, they know I have skills in deduction. SH**

 

**Not what I meant, but it’s good that they know how annoying you are. MH**

 

**I know what you meant. I don’t believe they do. And they were actually impressed by my deductions. SH**

**They aren’t too intelligent, are they? MH**

**Not as much as we are, obviously. But they’re actually decent human beings. John wants to be a doctor. SH**

**Impressive. I have to get back to my job now. Best of luck with you know what I meant. MH**

 

**Thanks. Bye. SH**

Sherlock threw his phone on the bed and changed into his pajamas, even though it was still early in the afternoon. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere, and he would be alone for the rest of the night. He was just getting back downstairs to find something to eat when the doorbell rang. He slipped a kitchen knife into the pocket of his robe and opened the door.

John was standing there with one of Sherlock’s notebooks in his hand.

“You forgot this on the bus. Your address is in the cover so I figured it was important to bring it,” John said, and smiled.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to,” Sherlock said.

“But if I didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to get those papers signed  for geometry and history,” John replied.

“I wasn’t getting those signed anyway,” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“Why not?”

“My parents won’t be home tonight. I was just going to forge their signature in the morning anyway.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“My parents gave me permission to do it.”

“So wait, you’re in this huge house by yourself for the rest of the night? Aren’t you afraid of robbers or anything?”

“It’s not that big. Would you like a tour?” Sherlock asked. And then he mentally flinched at how he had just invited someone into his house. He had really changed since this morning. Or maybe something, or someone changed him. He didn’t have a place in his mind palace for emotional diagnostics or social relations. He seemed to be doing well though.

“Yeah, sure. My parents said to be back by dinner but I could call them if you want to hang out or anything. This house is really big. What do you even have in all those rooms?” John asked.

“Not much yet. Mostly boxes. I’ll show you,” Sherlock replied. John stepped inside and Sherlock closed the door behind him. John looked around, awed by the extravagance of the entrance. The grand staircase, expensive rugs, paintings on the walls. It was completely unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

“I didn’t think those existed outside of movies. Is it real?” John pointed at the fantastic chandelier high above their heads. ‘

“Yeah. It’s real,” Sherlock answered.

“This is amazing and I’ve only seen the front entrance. Is the rest of the mansion like this?” John asked in wonder.

“It’s not a mansion. It’s no better or worse than anybody else’s house,” Sherlock replied.

“Far better than mine. I’m afraid to walk in here, I don’t want to get anything dirty or break anything. Geez,  I’d never be able to afford to replace any of this stuff,” John said.

“Stop acting like you’re at Buckingham Palace and come in. I don’t know how long you intend to stay, but you can put your shoes over there.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you or something,” John said as he gently placed his dirty shoes neatly on the mat Sherlock motioned to.

“No, it’s just that everybody has the same reaction to my home. It’s not Buckingham Palace.”

“To me, it might as well be.”

John followed Sherlock as he took him through most of the parts of the house. They started in the kitchen and went up the back staircase to the second floor.

“This is bigger than the library at school!” John exclaimed when Sherlock showed him Mycroft's study, full of books with a large balcony on the back. John walked over and peered out the window. Below the balcony, a garden with a fountain could be seen. “I never know such extravagance could exist outside of movie stars’ homes. Are you famous or something?” John said, still in wonder.

“Don’t you think you would recognize me or my name if I was famous?” Sherlock asked.

“Don’t laugh at me, but I don’t have a telly at home,” John replied. Sherlock felt a twinge of guilt for a moment. He recognized that John was more than likely poor, but maybe he underestimated how poor. Here he was now, showing off what really was a mansion, despite his denial.

“I would never laugh at that,” Sherlock replied.

“I thought you said you only had one sibling? Why are there five bedrooms?” John asked, as they walked farther up the hall.

“One for me, one for my older brother Mycroft, one for Mother, one for Father, one for guest.” Sherlock replied matter-of-factly, as he pointed from door to door. “Your parents have separate bedrooms? Why, it looks like neither have even been used yet!” John said, peeking into the rooms.

“They haven’t. My parents are at work most of the time. Sometimes they come home during the day when I’m not around. One of them was probably here this morning because of the coffee in the coffee pot downstairs,” Sherlock replied.

“That is so sad. So you’re really here in this huge house by yourself all the time? Do you know how to cook and everything?” John asked, his concern evident on his face.

“I get by. I’m alright,” Sherlock said, not wanting John to be concerned. It was strange. He had never thought twice about the emotions of others until he met this boy. Having a friend wasn’t actually as terrible as he had always told himself it would be.

“Will anybody be home tonight? You could always join my family. I think my mom’s making chicken,” John said, and smiled.

“No thank you. I was planning on getting takeaway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Sherlock said as they went down a different flight of stairs into what appeared to be a ridiculously fancy version of a living room. There were expensive looking entertainment systems lining the fancily wallpapered walls, full of expensive looking decorations. There were still quite a few boxes in the middle of the room, arranged into a peculiar arrangement…

“Is that a fort?” John laughed.

“I got bored yesterday,” Sherlock said defensively.

“No, I wasn’t judging you. That’s amazing. I haven’t made a fort since I was little.” John practically skipped around to the entrance of the pile of boxes on the other side.

“You didn’t ask permission to enter,” Sherlock said.

“Fine. May I?” John asked, smiling.

“Sure, why not,” Sherlock smiled after John ducked inside. John was just full of unexpected reactions, wasn’t he. Sherlock admitted now that a friend may not be a terrible idea. He followed John inside. It was fairly big for a fort (lots of boxes from lots of packed fancy things) with two windows and the door. It was big enough that the two of them could easily fit inside, and probably four more if four more were there.

“This brings back so many memories. I remember when I was little, my neighbor had just moved into the house next to us. She donated all her boxes to my and Harry’s imagination. Our box forts, they were airplanes and prisons and zoos.” John smiled. John smiled a lot, and Sherlock liked his smile. Sherlock considered making a space in his mind palace for John.

“This fort is a pirate ship,” Sherlock grinned.

“Pirate ship?”

“I thought you weren’t judging.”

“I wanted to be a pirate when I was little!”

“So did I!” Sherlock smiled back. Alright, he truly accepted John as a friend now. He had a friend. And it was wonderful.

Sherlock and John sat in that silly fort and talked for quite a while. It was funny, Sherlock just met this boy and yet, he felt like he knew him for his entire life. Well, Sherlock knew most of John’s life story at a glance, that was just his thing, but it was different.

Sherlock was laughing at something John said when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

**I’m coming home early and picking up takeaway. Any requests? MH**

“Hey, you want to stay for dinner? My brother’s getting out of work now and he’s picking up takeaway on the way home,” Sherlock asked.

“I’ll call my mom and ask if I can,” John said, as he pulled out his phone and left the fort, wandering into the kitchen for a private conversation. Sherlock listened carefully for a moment to hear John’s mom’s answer, which he deduced quickly as a yes.

**I don’t care. We have a guest tonight though. SH**

 

**A guest? Should I be concerned that you’re there by yourself with with this guest? MH**

**Not that kind of guest. It’s just John. SH**

 

**Does he know yet? MH**

**No, and if you tell him I will fill your bedroom with cockroaches. Thank you. SH**

 

**Very well. Does this guest have any special dinner requests? MH**

 

**Just get pizza. I want pizza. Plain should be fine. SH**

 

**I want pepperoni. MH**

**Make it half pepperoni, half plain then. SH**

**I’ll be home in a few minutes. MH**

**Great. SH**

Sherlock stuffed his phone back in his pocket as John walked back into the room.

“She said I can stay for dinner,” John reported.

“I heard. Mycroft is getting pizza,” Sherlock replied.

“What kind of pizza?” John asked.

“Half pepperoni, half plain,” Sherlock replied.

“Excellent.”

Sherlock and John spent the next twenty minutes waiting for Mycroft and talking about their childhood. Sherlock discovered something that actually surprised him. He hadn’t deduced that John was an outcast too. He thought that John would have had a lot more friends because of his friendliness. Maybe that friendliness was just hope that somebody would befriend him. Sherlock mentally kicked himself for not realizing that. Well, it didn’t matter. John had Sherlock now. And Sherlock had John. He was still unwilling to fully admit to it, but he was happy for it.

Sherlock heard the car door and ran to open the front door for his brother. In walked a twenty-two year old Mycroft Holmes, carrying a box of pizza and the mail that Sherlock had failed to check for.

“Good afternoon, Sherlock. Who’s your friend?” Mycroft smiled.

“This is John. Thank you for getting pizza, My,” Sherlock smiled back as he took the soda and mail off his brother.

“Good afternoon, John. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mycroft said.

“Um, likewise,” John replied, thrown off a little by Mycroft’s respectful, almost professional atmosphere. Sherlock was treating his brother like a brother, but Mycroft was treating them like business associates or something. It was weird.

“I’m going to eat in my room. I have unfinished work to do,” Mycroft smiled briefly before taking a piece of pizza and rushing up the stairs.

“I’m sorry he’s a little bit weird,” Sherlock said. Wait, what was that? Did he feel… embarrassment? That was new. He made note of the feeling in his mind palace for later analysis. He had always been made fun of for his intellect and home life but it had never bothered him before.

“It’s alright. Everybody’s a little bit weird,” John said around a mouthful of pizza. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. John and his emotions and opinions were completely new to him. Yes, this experience was definitely being stored in Sherlock’s mind palace for later careful analysis.

The boys finished their pizza, and John went home afterwards.

Sherlock paced back and forth in his room before bed. Just one day and his life changed dramatically. A friend? How did that happen? He never thought he’d enjoy the company of a friend. But was it normal for ‘friends’ to make a heart beat so much faster? Sherlock smiled as his mind flew over every detail of the time he spent with John. It definitely wasn’t normal that John didn’t question or make fun of his pajamas. It definitely wasn’t normal that John didn’t make fun of his box fort. Nothing about that afternoon was normal. Sherlock fell back onto his bed and sighed. He had been avoiding the thoughts, but if he was going to admit that he enjoyed John’s company and wanted to see him again, he might as well admit that a new crush was forming as well. As much as he hated the word crush. So juvenile. Then again, so was sitting in a box fort.

John walked home after dinner, just a few blocks. He had his parents sign everything that needed to be signed. As he finally got back to his room that night, he locked the door behind him. Pulling out a battered notebook from under a pillow and a pen from his desk, he smiled. He flipped to where he’d last left off, and crossed out the name that was there. Under it, in bigger, slightly more fantastic letters, he wrote Sherlock Holmes with a heart. He pushed the notebook back under the pillow he got it from and let the pen fall to the floor. After crawling to the end of the bed to reach the lightswitch, he lay down and snuggled into his blankets, smiling. He finally found someone to replace Jim Moriarty in his heart.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a snow day off from school seems like the perfect opportunity to add another chapter. First story I've ever written, so far so good. Hoping everyone likes the second chapter! (Then again I don't really care what you think because I am a strong, independent woman and I don't need your approval :P) 
> 
> Okay so, enjoy! :)

Chapter Two  
Sherlock punched his alarm clock clear off the nightstand. It clattered on the hardwood floor. However, it was still buzzing and now out of his reach. He moaned and pulled himself out of the bed, sliding onto the floor. He reached for the alarm clock and turned it off. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Another dreadful day, with friends he didn’t want and most certainly didn’t look forward to seeing. Not at all. He sighed heavily and pushed himself up. It was still dark outside, much earlier than he needed to get up. He never cared much for sleep or morning rushes. He wandered out onto the personal balcony he had outside his bedroom. John wasn’t entirely correct in saying mansion but the house was certainly more extravagant than necessary. Sherlock leaned on the railing and looked into the distance, the sun itself not yet touching the horizon, though its preceding rays brightening the edges of the Earth, just enough to give away a morning glow to everything below. 

Sherlock glanced down from where he stood, noticing the awning roof of a patio just below the railing. His mind was that of a genius but he had the curiosity and stubbornness of a child. He wondered if the roof could hold his weight, as he climbed over the railing and stepped, or more accurately, dropped onto it. It was surprisingly (and thankfully) sturdy. He sat down and peeked over the edge, discovering that the drop was relatively short. He could easily just… 

And his feet hit the ground with a thud. He had to know if that would work. And it did. That information could be useful. Except now he couldn’t get back up. He sighed as he walked around to the front of the house and pulled the spare key out of the potted plant, letting himself back in. He knew he was home alone so he didn’t bother trying to be quiet. Mycroft usually left the house at odd hours in the middle of the night to attend some type of business meetings with those on the other side of the world. He had a place pretty high up in the government. Sherlock glanced at the clock. He still had quite a bit of time before school, so he headed back upstairs to practice his violin a bit before school. 

John woke up less than enthusiastic for the day. He opened his eyes and winced at the bright sunlight, rolling over for a few more moments of sleep before his mom would officially wake him up for school. But as soon as he closed his eyes, visions of childhood memories danced before his eyelids; his subconscious mind replaying its worst moments. A punch in the stomach stung as much as the word 'faggot', if not more. It's difficult to compare emotional pain to physical, but either way, ow. John wondered if Sherlock would think of him differently if he knew. Then again, maybe he already DID know, what with his mind and ability to deduce everyone the way he did. Maybe Sherlock just didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to make John feel bad. He sighed and opened his eyes again, rolling over to get out of bed. No harm in being a little early. 

 

The two shared an equally happy bus ride, despite their different mornings. They shared the same bus ride for another week, always enjoying the other’s company. Sherlock didn’t make any more friends but he had more than he could ever want with John, and Molly had become less dreamy and more enjoyable company as well. Maybe she noticed that Sherlock wasn’t interested, or perhaps she realized that if she wanted a chance, acting dumb and lovestruck wouldn’t get her anywhere. Either way, the group of friends was a great one. 

Sherlock expected the next week to go just as the first had. After discussing a math project on the bus, Sherlock and John were heading to homeroom when Sherlock noticed something strange.  
“Why hasn’t he been in school for the first week?” Sherlock asked John, motioning to a rather dark yet intelligent looking boy about their age.   
“How do you know he’s not just a new student starting this week?” John asked.   
“You obviously know him, he has his friend group practically worshipping him,” Sherlock mumbled off reasons he felt should be obvious. John winced at memories of his greatest tormentors, that little friend group. They didn’t like their leader at all, but they definitely didn’t want to be on his bad side.   
“Erm, yeah. Right. That’s Jim Moriarty. Everyone just calls him Moriarty. He’s.. umm.. powerful, smart. Kind of like you, but a lot more intimidating. And evil. He used to be really sweet, I don’t know what happened. I even had a bit of a crush on him before he- Oh, wait, no! I didn’t mean to say- Oh God!” John backtracked his words as he turned and practically ran from Sherlock, who stood speechless. In all of his best deductions, it had never crossed his mind once that John might be gay.

John wasn’t in homeroom, and Sherlock discovered he didn’t have any classes with Moriarty. Not seeing John in all of their usual classes, having nobody to talk to, gave Sherlock time to think. First of all, woah. Sherlock mentally kicked himself for letting his deduction skills slide when emotions came into play. How didn’t he see that John was gay? He thought there was something strange when John told him of being bullied as a child, when they were in the box fort. Sherlock smiled at the memory of spending time with John in the box fort, but quickly frowned at himself for not seeing it. Second of all, not being straight himself, he should have seen the signs in John. Third of all, why was he jealous of this Moriarty kid? John clearly stated that he USED to have a crush on Moriarty. USED to. He didn’t now. John was his. 

But, Sherlock pondered, is he going to tell John his feelings? Oh, he was never good with feelings. John probably knew Sherlock was gay (well, THOUGHT he knew because Sherlock was in fact bi) but didn’t say anything about himself because he just didn’t like Sherlock like that.. Yes, that must be it. He couldn’t tell John his feelings. He wouldn’t. 

“Have you seen John today?” Molly asked as Sherlock sat down in biology. It was the last period of the day. Sherlock looked around, still no Moriarty.   
“I saw him this morning before homeroom,” Sherlock replied.  
“He went home by homeroom, then? That’s odd, if he was sick don’t you think he wouldn’t have even come to school?” Molly asked.  
“Maybe something made him sick. Some thought, or person..” Sherlock replied distractedly. Of course he knew why John was gone. Well, he had narrowed it down to two reasons. Either Moriarty’s presence brought back painful memories that made him sick, or he really didn’t want Sherlock to know he was gay and THAT made him sick. Or both. Sherlock couldn’t decide.   
“But why would-”  
“Tell me about Moriarty,” Sherlock cut Molly off, but she was asking a boring question that he didn’t have time for. The late bell for class would ring any moment, starting another boring period of notes.  
“What? I.. I don’t know anything about him,” Molly replied quickly, blinking at him with big eyes.  
“Don’t be ridiculous. You and John have been friends for a very long time. John confided in me this morning that Moriarty used to be kind, John even had a crush on him, but now he’s not. Tell me and don’t be boring.,” Sherlock replied, quickly and coldly.   
“John told you he had a crush on Moriarty? He didn’t tell me that for years!” Molly said, offended.  
“We don’t have time for-” Sherlock said irritatedly as the bell rang and the teacher closed the door to begin another boring period of notes and the inability to get information. 

By the end of the period, Molly had run away from him before he could say anything to her. Oh well, she couldn’t escape from a moving bus, he thought. He did that once, it wasn’t a fun thing to do. He could picture sweet little Molly Hooper jumping from a bus while fighting a gang of homeless people. Those homeless people were now his friends, of course, but it was different then. Sherlock climbed onto the stupid yellow bus and looked for Molly. 

He spotted her, in the back f the bus talking to one of her friends. They were looking at him. It was clear they were talking about him. He wondered for a moment if they were saying something even remotely interesting or if they were just discussing his cuteness or something. Girls are weird. Sherlock sat down in the seat he usually occupied with John, who was obviously still not there. But his absence bothered Sherlock more than it should have. He stared out the bus window and watched all the houses and trees and grassy lawns roll past. 

Before long, the seat behind him was taken by Molly and her friend, who apparently had traded with whomever was there before. Unless it was empty. Sherlock didn’t even notice.

“Sorry about before, Sherlock. I think you should talk about that with John if you see him. No offense, but it’s not really my place to say anything,” Molly said.  
“Hello Molly. I can understand that,” Sherlock said, distracted. Nobody said anything for a moment.  
“This is my friend Irene,” Molly said.   
“Yeah, hi.” Sherlock replied. Why wouldn’t they go away?  
“It’s rude not to look at someone when you’re being introduced, ya’know. Maybe I wanna see your face,” Irene replied.   
“This is my stop,” Sherlock said as he jumped from the seat and exited the bus, glad to finally be away from people. 

But as he approached his house, he noticed a figure sitting by his front door, hidden from view by someone on the road. Sitting with his knees pulled up and his arms around them, only his blonde hair visible above them.  
“John.” Sherlock said, approaching the ridiculously grand porch made of some kind of polished stone and pillars and the whole lot. John didn’t move for what seemed like forever. Sherlock stood awkwardly, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. At last, John slowly lifted his head.   
“Umm, hi.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting seven kudos and feeling like a best-selling author... haha I know you can't dislike me, but, you know, hate comments and stuff... so yay, doing pretty good for my first story c: 
> 
> You guys rock so here's another chapter (:

Chapter 3  
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked. He always had his science of deduction but his mind palace was failing him now.  
“I couldn’t go home, my parents would kill me for leaving school without being sick,” John replied with a weak smile.  
“Why did you leave school in the first place?” Sherlock had it down to several possible theories, but he still couldn’t decide.  
“Well.. I kind of got sick..” John replied, not entirely honest but not entirely truthful either, Sherlock noted.  
“Yes yes but why,” Sherlock asked, getting a bit irritated.  
“Maybe I don’t wanna talk about it,” John said. Sherlock sighed heavily and walked up his porch.  
“Your parents will be expecting you home any moment,” Sherlock said, with the slightest hint of attitude.  
“You don’t hate me now, do you?” John asked.  
“Of course not! Why would I?,” Sherlock replied, as he turned in surprise.  
“I thought maybe you would.. most people do.. I mean, you might, after.. this morning,” John mumbled.  
“No. No, I don’t hate you. I’ll never hate you,” Sherlock said, still a bit edgy, but mushy emotions don’t come naturally to the Holmes family.  
“Really? Even though I’m… It doesn't bother you?” John asked.  
“Friends are friends,” Sherlock replied, finally getting to unlock his front door.  
“Alright If only there were more people in the world like you. Hey, did I miss anything major in school today?”  
“Well, there’s this boring history project.. I could explain it to you if you have a minute.”  
“I’ll text my parents, let them know I’m here.”

 

John left as it was just starting to get dark. Sherlock and John had discussed the project and other homework. They didn’t talk at all about their morning discussion after what was said on the porch. John wasn’t sure if that was a success or a failure. He was happy he didn’t lose Sherlock, but.. “Friends are friends.” Sherlock only wanted to be friends. It hurt more than John had anticipated, but it was better than losing him as a friend too, right? John pulled his battered notebook out along with a pen, but he didn’t know what to write. He had nothing to say. His heart beat a little faster as his eye caught Moriarty’s name crossed out with Sherlock’s below. Sherlock technically never said he wasn’t gay too… but wouldn’t he say something upon learning John is? He musn’t have wanted to give John hope if he was. HE probably wasn’t anyway. John sighed as he shoved his notebook back under the pillow and let the pen roll to the floor. Turning out his light and crawling back under his blankets, John resolved to act normal around Sherlock, so he wouldn’t think he was into him or anything. 

Sherlock lay in his bed and stared at his ceiling, fingers steepled under his slender chin. John had acted like he had no interest in him.. John was gay and he had no interest in him. Sherlock felt a tug in his chest. He had unconsciously hoped that John was gay.. he hadn’t anticipated John having no interest in him. Not that Sherlock had an ego or anything. Most people hated him .He should be glad that John even wanted to be friends. with him. John was such a great person. Sherlock stared at the ceiling, completely still except for the occasional fluttering of his eyelashes as he blinked. He reached out for his cell phone, which happened to be on the floor next to his bed. Sherlock sighed heavily and yelled his brother’s name.  
“Sherlock?” Mycroft knocked on the door.  
“Come in,” Sherlock said, disinterestedly.  
“What is it?” Mycroft asked, concerned.  
“Can you hand me my cell phone?”  
“Sherlock it’s two in the morning. You called me in here in the middle of the night for a cell phone? I thought you-”  
“My cell phone, PLEASE.” Sherlock emphasized the kindness in his request.Mycroft sighed heavily and retrieved the phone off the floor.  
“Don’t do that to me,” Mycroft said sternly.  
“I do what I want,” Sherlock replied, happily typing away at his phone. Mycroft sighed heavily again, lingering for a moment.  
“I care about you, brother dear,” Mycroft said quietly.  
“I know. Thanks, My. You can go back to bed now.”Sherlock said, a bit softer. He hit seend just as hid brother was closing the door. He waited a moment. 

**John is gay. No interest. SH**

**You woke me up to hand you your phone so you could text me? MH**

**Obviously. SH**

**Sherlock, I thought you had come across opium again. I was so terrified you had gone too far, what I would find when I opened your door. But you want to gossip. I am very cross with you right now. MH**

**Obviously. I apologize for the inconvenience. SH**

**Don’t get involved with John. MH**

**But I think I like him. SH**

**Silly emotions. Knock it off. Remember Redbeard. MH**

**Don’t. SH**

**Poor little Billy and his puppy. MH**

**Do NOT ever call me Billy again. That is past me. SH**

**William Sherlock Scott Holmes and Redbeard Holmes, best friends furever. MH**

**Please. Stop. I learned my lesson. No more John. No more Billy. I am Sherlock Holmes now. SH**

**Alright. Please remember. All people die, all hearts are broken. Caring is NOT an advantage. MH**

**Alright. Yes. Thanks. Night. SH**

**Goodnight, Sherlock. Sleep well. MH**

Sherlock rolled over angrily and threw his phone at the wall. He was looking to seek advice from Mycroft but all he got was a reminder of his past. He wanted to forget his past, start something new. He sighed and rolled over again. John would never like him if he knew of his past. Sherlock regretted ever getting into drugs. Sherlock regretted getting so close to Redbeard. He wished he had some opium with him now. Such a rush of emotions. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep/ 

 

The next morning, Sherlock was a bit out of it. Mycroft was gone by the time he woke up. He didn’t want to see Mycroft anyway. Sherlock rushed to get ready, as he forgot to set the alarm the previous night. As he boarded the bus, he looked for John, but another sight caught his eye. He quickly sat down beside John, trying not to look further back without making it obvious that he was trying not to look back.  
“John, who’s that?” Sherlock said, motioning his head back.  
“Thats Irene Adler, the school whore.” John replied, not even looking back. So, the girl must have had a reputation and caught a lot of attention, if John didn’t even have to look.  
“Molly’s friend?”  
“Yesh.”  
“Is she in our grade?”  
“No, she’s a junior. I think she and Molly had an art class together last year. Put your eyes back in your head, man.”  
“I’m not looking.”  
“You’re obviously looking.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Don’t waste your time, she’s a total slut.”  
“Is that always such a bad thing?” Sherlock muttered under his breath. John didn’t hear him. John was focusing on the fact that Sherlock was definitely not gay. He spent the rest of the bus ride contemplating his heart as his genius idiot friend sat beside him practically drooling over the ‘beauty’ in the back of the bus. 

 

Later that day, as Sherlock was walking through the hall on the way to lunch, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
“Hello sweetie, I saw you staring this morning, thought I wouldn’t notice,” Irene whispered in his ear with a grin.  
“I wasn’t looking. You disgust me.” Sherlock lied. Although she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he had very little respect for ‘whores’.  
“Oh, you were looking, alright. Like what you see?” Irene grinned wider.  
“Oh just shut up,” he replied, turning towards the cafeteria that he never ate in.  
“Hey, you’re pretty sexy yourself,” Irene stepped in front of him. Sherlock glared at her, but he could feel his heart flutter the slightest bit. “Do you really wanna talk in this noisy cafeteria?”  
“I don’t want to talk to you at all. You’re in my way.”  
“Stubborn, are we? Look, I can’t talk here. Mrs. Hudson, she’d yell at me for skipping classes again,” she motioned to the sweet old lady supervising from the corner of the cafeteria.  
“I need to eat.”  
“You don’t eat.”  
“How do you know?”  
“The science of deduction.” Irene grinned at him. Sherlock glared back, untrusting, surprised that she used his own words against him. Irene noted that he was more intrigued, and grinned wider. God she was grinning so hard, she might as well have been the Cheshire cat.  
“I’m eating today,” Sherlock said, remembering his busy morning.  
“Alright then. Here’s my cell number,” Irene pulled a piece of paper from her pocket along with a pen. She scribbled down a number and handed it to him. He tore it in two and threw it on the ground. She looked as though she was going to make another comment, but he walked away before then. He sat at his usual table alone until Irene walked away. He made sure she was really gone before he retrieved the two halves of the paper that were still lying on the ground.


End file.
